


a century of lonely nights

by ohhotlamb



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aladdin (1992) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crack Treated Seriously, Genie!Kuroko, M/M, Prince!Kagami, Streetrat!Aomine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3312206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhotlamb/pseuds/ohhotlamb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poor boy who craves acknowledgement of his humanity. A lonely prince who looks out on the city from his window and yearns for freedom. In a clash of destiny, the two of them meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a century of lonely nights

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if you've never seen the Disney version of Aladdin. I think it might help to get the full visual, since I kinda skipped around bits of the plot, but if you know the basic story I think you'd be fine. AND OHH MY GOSH IT'S LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO WRITE A LITTLE SHORT THING NO I HAVE TO WRITE LIKE A BAJILLION WORDS i need to get myself under control.
> 
> I started this sucker in November, and it's taken me this long to get it to a point that I feel okay posting it  
> This was honestly just for fun. I made myself laugh writing it, and it was so much fun it's literally crack garbage but I hope you find some enjoyment in it! and I hope you appreciate how many times I had to come up with different ways to completely butcher Hanamiya's name. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to apologize for making Aomine sound like a wannabe thug 96% of the time. 
> 
> title is a line from "genie in a bottle" by christina aguilara . aren't I so clever?  
> I would really love it if someone came to harass me on my tumblr : smileyeeyore.tumblr.com ( ﾟ▽ﾟ)/

Street rat. Scoundrel. Pickpocket. Worthless, scum, trash.

Aomine could go on—the list extends far beyond what he could bother trying to remember. The names, the curses, the crude gestures and dirty looks—they’re all things he doesn’t even acknowledge anymore. From the ages of four, nine, fifteen, and now at eighteen, he’s heard more disgusting things spat at him than he can count. But that’s the kind of life he needs to live, and if doing so makes him less than dirt then so be it. 

But he’s starting to wonder if he even has a name anymore.

 

~*~    

                                                                          

The city is baking.

Waves of heat radiate off the brown cobblestone, mules tied up miserably under the few stray palm trees the capital has to offer. There are orphaned children lying in alleyways, fanning themselves and begging for water, or for death. The corrupt police force runs rampant, terrorizing the citizens under the oblivious eye of the Sultan. Death from starvation wasn't uncommon, and everyone was warned not to leave their houses at night. All-over, it was a pretty shitty place to live.

But this is the desolate place Aomine calls home. 

Currently, he himself is taking a running leap from one rooftop to another, the sound of angry voices hot on his heels and he laughs, exhilarated, as he clutches a loaf of bread under his arm, a single peach clenched in his other hand. He hops from one roof to a patio balcony, then down to a pile of empty produce crates and finally to the cracked pavement before he breaks into a flat sprint, careens around a corner and ducks into an alleyway, presses his back against the wall and pants for breath. He hears the distant clammering of the idiot monkeys who are chasing him—the smelly and ugly law enforcers that are little more than glamorized bullies, swinging their swords around uselessly when they’re not picking insects from each other’s greasy mustaches.

He heaves a great sigh, the adrenaline fading from his body as his heart slows and he checks out the damage on his goods. The peach got a little roughed up by his tough grip but other than that the food looks fine, and his stomach growls and clenches so painfully he moans. He’s about to raise the fruit to his lips for the first delicious bite of food he’s had in _days_ when he hears a soft scuffling, stops and whips his head around to see a couple dirty kids peeking at him from behind a crate of garbage. They're staring at the stolen goods in his hands like they’re looking at the holy grail, and Aomine can practically hear the crackling thunder in their bellies. 

He looks away quickly, considers pretending like he never saw them. He bites his lip, looks briefly to the heavens for guidance and with an exhausted sigh he pushes off from the wall. He stalks over, and before the kids can panic and scatter he shoves the food at them, rolls his eyes as they look up at him in astonishment. The little ratty girl hesitantly takes the loaf from him, clutches it close to her chest like it’s pure gold as the boy next to her takes the peach, oogles it in wonder. The girl furrows her small eyebrows, scuffs her bare feet on the dusty ground as she stares up adoringly.

“But, mister, this’s your stuff ain’t it?” she squeaks, stars in her eyes and god, he's getting  _embarrassed._

He scoffs, waves his hand flippantly. “Like I’d want this shitty food anyways. Trust me kid, you’re doin’ me a favor. Now get lost before I change my mind.”

The two of them blink, their backs going ramrod straight and at once they scamper off in a hurry, the girl turning around before the corner and waving back to him with a small, shy smile. Then they’re gone, and Aomine groans before he leans against the wall again, his stomach empty save for hunger and despair.

He can't let a small setback like this bring him down. But it's been hard getting food, especially lately. There's been a drought that's lasted for weeks and weeks, and not only do the shop keepers watch their produce like hawks, but the police have been more determined than usual to catch him red-handed. He had to be extremely clever and quick to get the food he had just handed off to the kids, and getting some more wasn't going to be an easy feat. But if he did it before, he can do it again. 

He gives himself a quick pinch to his cheeks to psych himself up before he sets off back into the bustling bazaar of the main street, weaving between customers, merchants tugging their wares down the road in carts. Aomine’s eyes zero in on a produce stand a bit to his left, and he can already see his prize—he’s going to be snatching a handful of dried dates. It might not seem like much, but in this city where he needs to steal to survive, he has to keep a low profile. He’s already wanted by those thugs—he doesn’t need an angry farmer coming after him with a sickle as well.

Just as he’s calculating a plan—he’s going to trip an unsuspecting passerby into that pot _just so,_ and during the commotion he’ll pluck a few oversized raisins and be on his way. He’s already caught sight of his victim when all of a sudden something’s yanking on his neckline and he’s getting thrown on his back, the breath going out of him with a _whoosh_ and he’s face-to-face with a bushy mess of facial hair, rank breath blowing onto his face and his stomach drops. A sword is being pushed to his chest, and he looks around desperately only to see that he’s completely surrounded, that gang of jackasses having finally caught him off guard.

“Get that thing the fuck away from me,” he snarls, knows he’s all talk but hopes by some miracle it works anyway. Like he’s expecting, the leader of this so-called justice brigade just grits out a wheezing laugh, digs the tip of the sword into Aomine’s chest and he hisses, knows it’s pricked him because he can feel a thin line of hot blood start to trickle down his side.

“Finally. I just knew that if I was patient, one of these days I was gonna catch you, you filthy rat,” the man sneers, his face flushed and sweaty, grime coating his hairline and Aomine can’t move, knows if he does he’ll be cutting a line down his stomach and he doesn’t want to bleed out on the street.

 _So this is where it ends, huh?_ He’s either gonna die here or be put in the dungeons for the rest of his life, and honestly, the latter sounds less appealing. His freedom is all he has left—take that away and he might as well be a corpse.

Aomine rests his head on the sandy cobblestone below, looks up at the shockingly blue sky. He had tried his best, he thinks. He hadn't put his parents’ effort to keep him alive all those years to waste, right? Maybe he’ll see them again sooner than later. It’s a comforting thought.

Just as he’s nearing complete hopelessness, ready to resign to his fate, a mysterious and _seriously fine-lookin’ young man_ steps out of the crowd, approaches the goon leering down at Aomine and rests a firm hand on the forearm holding the sword to his chest.

“Release this young man at once,” he says, voice ringing out clear and all the shoppers milling around the scene pause to watch. He doesn’t _look_ like he has any authority—his shoes are as dusty as one usually sees around here, the cloak and hood that cover his head a dirty brown burlap full of little holes.

The asshole stares at the calm hand on his arm in shock before his eyes dart to the face of the young man. “How dare you touch me, you bastard!” The policeman spits, yanks his arm away and with it the sword, and Aomine takes a ragged, relieved breath but doesn’t move, just stares up at the mystery man in shock because _dude, you’re hot, but you’re gonna get us killed._

“You will let him go,” the man announces, his tone so commanding it sends a chill down Aomine’s spine and even though he’s dressed in a raggedy cloak not much better than Aomine’s own clothes the other thugs hesitate, their swords lowering by a fraction and their boss laughs, gets up in the newcomer's face and smiles, his grin full of black holes.

“And why would we do that?” He then turns to call over his shoulder, “Hey, do any of you guys have an extra pair of handcuffs? We might as well take this piece of shit in too. They can rot in prison together,” He sneers, points his sword at the stranger whose nostrils flare in a rage and now Aomine’s heart is pounding for a whole lot of different reasons.

“By command of the son of the Sultan, you will release this man!” He yells, his voice trembling with anger and Aomine’s frozen. _What did he just say?_

And then the stranger rips off his cloak, revealing an outfit so sparkling Aomine feels blinded. Pure white, studded in jewels and rimmed in gold thread it is undeniably the clothes of a prince, and looking at the face twisted with fury Aomine can finally recognize him, recognize the famously handsome prince that only comes out of the palace during festival times, to stand next to his father as they give thanks with the people of the capital for good harvests.

Around them, everyone gives a collective gasp, a few of them dropping to their hands and knees with reverence, and the policemen all drop their weapons at once. They bumble through terrified apologies and the icing on the cake is watching as their leader, that greasy sack of shit, wheezes out what is presumably a plead for mercy, his hands that are holding his sword trembling, white as a sheet.

Aomine snaps his head up as he feels fingertips brush his shoulder, looks into warm eyes and he swallows, his heart fluttering.

“Are you alright?” The prince asks gently, tugging at Aomine’s arm as he lies gawking on the ground.

“Oh, erm, I-I’m fine, Mr. Kagami, sir, wait, shit, I mean, Your Princeness, I mean, _fuck—_ ”

“You may call me Taiga,” The man says kindly, still holding onto Aomine’s elbow as he helps him stand up, not letting go even as Aomine’s stable and the skin burns where he’s being touched and he can feel blood pooling in his cheeks.

“Uh, thank you, for, uh, you know. But—but why—?”

“I saw you feed those two children earlier. It would take a fool to not see that it was a great sacrifice for you,” The prince murmurs, gives a soft squeeze to Aomine’s elbow before letting go.

“What, shit, _that?_ That was _nothin’._ I didn’t—they were just so skinny, ya know? Any—anyway, what you doin’ out here, T-Taiga? It’s awfully hot and dirty for a prince.” He feels so awkward he could die, and saying the prince’s name out loud causes him to blush even further and he feels like an enormous tool. But the prince laughs, gives a pat to Aomine’s shoulder.

“Let’s just say I needed to get away for a while,” the prince grimaces, looks up at the enormous palace looming over the city and he sighs, smiles at Aomine sadly. Aomine looks into those gloomy yet burning eyes and he can feel himself falling, getting totally lost, but before he can drop to one knee and beg for this man’s hand in marriage that great buffalo of a thug is coming up the prince with a nervous smile, twisting his shitty lawman’s hat in his sweaty hands.

“Yo-Your Highness? I-I I’m sure the Sultan is worried about you, sire. We’ve been told you’ve gone missing, and that His Majesty wants anyone who finds you to bring you back to the palace.” He says, almost in a whisper, his terrified eyes flicking from Prince Kagami’s face to Aomine’s and back again. Aomine smiles to himself smugly, looks slightly down at the prince’s face who stares back at the policeman coolly.

“Very well. But if I hear any harm has come to his man I will personally assure your head ends up mounted on my wall. Are we clear?” He says menacingly, not waiting for a reply (the man’s face is now a lovely green and Aomine has to hold back a bark of laughter) before turning back to Aomine, smiles with his teeth and Aomine finds himself wishing he had a sun visor of some kind cause _damn_ that shit is _sparkling_.

“Quickly, what is your name?” the prince asks, glancing irately out of the corner of his eyes at the lawman and Aomine blinks, his tongue thick in his mouth and he chokes out a barely-coherent: “Daiki. It’s Aomine Daiki.”  

“Aomine Daiki. I hope we’ll meet again soon,” the prince murmurs, gives a final brush to Aomine’s shoulder before he’s sauntering back down the street, the people parting for him like he’s Moses and the policemen follow him with a squawk. 

His name. The prince had called him by _his name._ He can’t remember the last time he had watched those words come from someone’s mouth, the last time he watched them form around the ‘O’, the last time lips curled into a tiny smile with the ‘K’.  The last time someone treated him like he was actually human.

Aomine can just watch him go in a daze, his heart caught up in a tizzy, but before he can go into an alleyway and daydream for the rest his life two thugs have hooked Aomine’s arms behind his back, jerked him backwards and began dragging him down the street.

“Hey, what gives?! The prince just said you can’t hurt me!” He yells, struggles against the arms and then a fist has landed in his gut and he wheezes, hangs his head and coughs for air.

“Shut up, brat. He may be the prince but we’ve still got a warrant for your arrest.” A voice growls into his ear, and then a bag is getting thrown over his head and he gets led to what he assumes is his death, his vision coated in black.

 

~*~

 

Aomine can honestly admit he probably would have agreed to do anything if it meant he didn’t have to be in close quarters with that old fart anymore.

Yeah, the treasure he had talked about sounded nice. Riches beyond what he could possibly imagine, access to an unlimited supply of gold, food, women, power, _anything._ Those things sounded nice. Aomine wouldn’t turn down the offer of a hot meal every day, maybe a nice lady to keep him company. But the fact remains, that old fart—wait, what had been that creep’s name? Hachiyama? Hanamiya? whatever—was creepy beyond all reason, and his breath had smelled like a pile of sweaty laundry stewing in the sun all day and Aomine would have fuckin’ leapt at any godforsaken opportunity if it meant he wasn’t chained to a wall listening to that creep blather on for the rest of his life.

But now he has a whole new set of problems to deal with. Namely, this delusional kid that’s now following him around, bugging him senseless as he claims to be a ‘genie’.

“I am a genie. I am the shadow to the light of my master. As such, I hold the power to grant you three wishes. What is it that my master most desires?”

“For the last time, try sellin’ your shit somewhere else pal, cause I ain’t buyin’.” Aomine snaps, spins on his heel and continues his curving path into the cavern, ignoring the giant piles of gold around him. He’s looking for something obviously remarkable, right? Hochimama had told him very specifically not to take anything from the cavern except for a special treasure of some kind. When Aomine had asked him what he was supposed to be looking for in particular, the old man had just laughed maniacally before whispering a cryptic, "You'll know once you've found it."

The lamp he had found previously—leading to the unfortunate discovery of his shitty companion—just _couldn’t_ have been what he’s supposed looking for. This must be worth something, right? It would be shiny, and gold, and rimmed with jewels. Not some dull bronze piece of crap. The only reason he had picked it up in the first place was because it had been seated in a rather ostentatious way in the middle of a plush satin cushion on a pedestal, but looks can be deceiving, he supposes. He had rubbed the lamp, hoping underneath the dirty pallor was shiny gold, but instead all he got had been a cloud of dust, followed by swirling smoke and the appearance of a young boy, probably around his age, with icy blue eyes and equally blue hair, golden bangles around his ankles and wrists, gold hoops in his ears and a tiara of some sort on is head. And while he guesses the boy could probably be held for a large sum of ransom money (Aomine could smell a rich kid from a mile away) he chooses to ignore him, continues searching for this goddamn _thing_ that’s somehow gonna fix all his problems.

“What could you possibly have to lose by trusting me? If I'm telling the truth, and I am, you could only gain.”

Aomine glances back, irritated, and the boy just looks back at him expressionlessly, the only sign of emotion the hands that are fisted into powder blue puffy trousers.

“I would be losing my _sanity_ , that’s what.” Aomine pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore how dejected the boy looks but his conscience gives out. He sighs, continues walking down the thin pathway between piles.

“But fine, you wanna hear what I want so bad? I’ll tell ya. Hmmm. Well. Yesterday I met this _crazy_ hot guy, right? Like his eyebrows were pretty stupid, but his _eyes,_ and his _hair,_ and his _ass_ _—_ ”Aomine has to turn, biting his lip, takes a deep breath to collect himself.

“Unfortunately, I cannot make people fall in love with you. I can also not kill anyone or bring anyone back to life. Oh, and you cannot wish for more wishes. These things defy the laws that govern genies.”

“God, what use are you then.” Aomine mutters to himself, shoves a shitty rolled-up carpet out of the way to search among a large pile of treasure. You’d think it would be very obvious, maybe a clue or two to point him in the right direction, but no. Aomine gets nothing.

“I can, however, help you in any other way, if you think you could naturally woo this person. Like gifts, or I could grant you a special talent of some sort?”

Aomine ponders this. What would he have to do to get the attention of the prince? There’s no way he’s good enough as he is—he’s poor as dirt, and his hair’s getting shaggy and he has no real charms to speak of.

“Let’s just pretend like I believe you for a second. I would wish that you make me like one of those noble assholes who’re always struttin’ through town. The whole shebang. I want servants and money and nice clothes. I want to look like I’m somethin’ _special._ Is that specific enough for you? If you’re for real, you’re not gonna screw me over somehow, right?” Aomine narrows his eyes, and the ‘genie’ puts his hands up innocently, his lips finally curved into a kind of smile.

“I promise, I won’t twist your wishes around on you. I will give you exactly what you desire. And a wish like that would be no problem.”

Aomine nods, finds a pile of cushions and sits down for a break, looks down at his dirt-caked feet with a scowl before turning again to the genie.

“Well, I guess if I can have anything I want, I don’t gotta find this stupid thing for Hohochika. It's too tiring. But I can’t go back out the front entrance, or he’ll know I ditched out…” He sighs, exasperated, flops back into the fluffy cushions and closes his eyes to think.

“Then let’s find another way to get out of this cave.” The genie pipes up tonelessly, Aomine cracking open an eye as the boy delicately sits on a cushion next to him.

“What, you can’t magic our way out?” He asks condescendingly, tilting his head to better see the boy’s face. He’s watching Aomine from the corner of his eyes, clearly unamused.

“I can, but only if you wish for it. And something tells me you won’t want to waste a wish on something like that.”

Aomine sighs again like for all the world he’s getting inconvenienced at having a holder of supreme cosmic power offer him free stuff. He tips his head back, spots at the very top corner of the cavernous ceiling a hole, catches a glimmer of starlight. It’s got to be at least a hundred feet straight up.

He groans.

“Well, I found our escape route. But how in the name of—“

And then Aomine feels a nudge against his shin, and he sits up quickly in surprise to see the tassels of the old rug he had pushed aside earlier, very gently poking at his ankles.

“Well, how about that.”

 

~*~

 

Kuroko Tetsuya, the genie, had in every way granted Aomine’s wish to a T.

He had even included things Aomine hadn’t thought to mention: a hundred horses and riders to lead his parade into the city, a marching band, banners and confetti and a shit-ton of fireworks.

Hell, he even made his grand entrance riding in on an _elephant._

So when Aomine kicked open the doors to the palace, (Kuroko insisted on a simple disguise—a flimsy stick-on mustache to ensure the prince wouldn’t recognize him as the dirty street urchin he really was), yeah, he kind of expected Prince Kagami to whisk him off immediately for a passionate day of love-making.

What he hadn’t been counting on the first time he busts into the palace in his seriously sweet getup, is Prince Kagami giving him the middle finger before running off, his father apologizing profusely as Aomine stares after him, wide-eyed and honestly a little turned on.

“Oh, I’m so sorry my lord, he can be a bit temperamental.” The Sultan says anxiously, looking behind him to a gray-looking young man with slick black hair standing in the corner silently, watching. The man shrugs, a little “what-can-you-do” smile on his face and Aomine gets a distinct case of the heebie-jeebies. He shakes his head, looks after the prince who’s barreling down a long corridor off of the main hall.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Is it alright if I go talk to him?”

“Uhm, er, well, yes, I suppose. But I must warn you, he’s a bit headstrong.”

“I like ‘em feisty.”

And Aomine sprints after him, admiring his speed and the choice insults he throws over his shoulder. Aomine finally catches up after a good five minutes, completely winded as he takes a hard corner and nearly runs into him. The prince is looking out a window, his elbows leaning on the frame as he catches his breath. He glares at Aomine from the corner of his eyes before he goes back to gazing at the bustling city below.

“Damn, you can really book it,” Aomine says, not asking before propping his elbows on the sill next to Kagami, looking out at the baking streets, the people looking like little colorful insects from this high up.

“And you really can’t take a hint,” The prince grumbles, scooting over so they aren’t so close together.

“Sorry. But I really wanted to talk to you.”

“ _What?_ No _way_. I couldn’t tell.” The prince’s voice is just _dripping_ with sarcasm and _oh my god, he’s perfect._

Aomine smiles, his fingers tracing his fake-ass mustache to make sure it hadn’t flown off during his chase.

“You’re not very charming. I thought princes were supposed to be charming. Singing to birds, twirling around in a cloud of rainbows. You know, prince-y stuff.”

The prince snorts, rolls his eyes but turns his head a little to face Aomine, his lip curled in a sneer. “I’m charming when I wanna be charming. It’s not like I want to impress you.”

Aomine thinks of the prince he first met—the one with the grand sweeping gestures, the kind voice, the gentle hands. _He_ had been charming.  And he was nothing like the person in front of him.

“Then who _do_ you want to impress?” Aomine grins, his heart pounding and the prince looks away again, gazing wistfully at the city.

“None of your business.”

“Oh ho ho, you _like_ someone, don’t you?” He teases, leans closer and Kagami blushes to the tips of his ears as he pointedly turns his head.

“Shut up.”

“What are they like? Come on, tell me. It’s not like I’ve got anybody to blab to.”

Kagami sighs, his eyes becoming unfocused as he stares at a point above Aomine’s head. “I only know their name. And that they’re so handsome, and gruff and awkward but kind. I only met him once.” Kagami stops abruptly, his face twisting with sadness. “But it could never work out. He’s…he’s…” the prince trails off, clearly glum.

Aomine hums, struggling not to squeal with glee because _he’s talking about me, right? He has to be!_

“Do you think you’d be willing to settle for little ol’ me?” He asks instead, leaning closer and Kagami recoils, making a fake gagging noise as he steps away from the window.

“ _You?_ Snooty and full of yourself like every other lord and lady that comes to court me? Don’t think I can’t tell you’re trying to win me over with that fuckin’ _joke_ down there—“ he jerks his thumb out the window, pointing to Aomine’s welcoming parade loitering around on the palace steps, “—and not to _mention_ your mustache is probably the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey now.” Aomine frowns, places a hand on his hip. “Why’re you dissing the mustache? That’s going kind of low.”

“Ah, excuse me gentlemen.” A slippery voice says behind them. Aomine turns to find that gray-looking man, his mouth curled up but Aomine couldn’t really call it a smile. “Prince Kagami, it’s time for your mid-day tea. My lord, if you would be so kind as to come back another time. The prince needs sustenance every two hours or he becomes faint.”

Aomine turns to look at Kagami, but he’s already stalking further up the hallway without another word.

“My lord, if you would,” the man says, gestures Aomine to follow him, and Aomine thinks there’s something familiar about his voice but he brushes it off, follows the gray man back to the entrance hall, already deep in thought about his next move.

 

~*~

 

After a quick regrouping with Kuroko and a not-so-spirited pep talk that pumps him up none the less Aomine’s back at it, asks the magic carpet to give him a boost and now he’s standing on the garden wall. Looking out over the sparkling green oasis, Aomine nearly has the breath stolen from him. Lush green grass, a man-made stream trickling into a pond, citrus trees and bushes with huge colorful blooms. He’s never seen so much green in his life. Kuroko gives him silent encouragement in the form of a little blue bird that flies over as well to start splashing around in a beautiful bird bath. In the middle lies an elegant white gazebo, and from his perch Aomine spots his target. He shuffles along the wall, looking for the softest spot of ground to land on.

“I wouldn’t jump down from the wall if I were you,” the prince calls lazily from his lounge chair, watching Aomine from the corner of his eyes as he reaches for another grape, a cup of tea in his other hand.

“Well, I can’t sweep you off your feet from way over here,” Aomine replies, mentally judging the distance and calculating the best way to avoid two broken ankles and an even more wounded sense of pride.

Thinking he’ll be able to make it just fine—he’s got years upon years of experience, after all—he gracefully hops down from the tall stone wall, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, falling into a crouch to prevent the heavy impact from jarring his knees. 

The prince is looking at him expressionlessly, clearly unimpressed; one leg crossed over the other as he reaches for the bowl of fruit again, this time taking out an apple. He looks at the piece of fruit, shines it on his shirt before flicking his gaze to a point to the left of Aomine’s shoulder. He grins, tips his head back against a satin pillow, his expression bordering on evil and Aomine feels a brief chill climb up his spine.

“Koganei,” Prince Kagami calls, his tone commanding, before he takes a huge bite of his apple.

_What’s a Koganei?_

Aomine’s just barely able to glance behind him before he sees a flash of orange and black and white, and suddenly he’s shoved by something at least as strong as a horse and he’s tumbling across the grass. When his vision isn’t quite so blurry anymore he realizes he’s being pinned down by the shoulders, a terrifying growl rumbling in his ear and he looks up to see that it’s a _tiger—_ it’s at least five times his size, and he’s staring, frozen, into hungry amber eyes, flicks his gaze down to look at long yellowing fangs protruding from a gaping maw that could easily take off his head in one bite.

He looks back up, frantic, notices the prince standing beside his giant pet, grinning smugly as he pats the great beast on the back.

“This is Koganei. He makes sure that anyone stupid enough to climb over the fence doesn’t live to see the next day.”

There’s a lot of things on Aomine’s mind at this moment. The usual stuff: _Wow, the prince is so hot,_ and _man, I’m getting kinda hungry._ Mostly, he’s thinking of the best way to ask the prince if he would please prevent his pet from enjoying an early dinner. But what he blurts out instead is, “Would you go somewhere with me tonight?”  

The prince frowns, moves his hand to scratch between the tiger’s ears and it purrs, all of a sudden settling down to lay flat on Aomine’s chest, looking up at his owner with an expression Aomine assumes is devotion. Aomine can’t breathe but he looks unwaveringly at the prince, at how he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“I can’t.” He finally sighs, looks off to the side, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. “For one, like I would actually waste my time hanging out with someone like you. I don’t care how much my father loves you; I meet people like you every day.”

“And second, I have a curfew. They lock me in my room by nightfall. I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.”

Aomine follows the wistful crimson gaze to the corner of the garden, to a beautiful gold birdcage, white songbirds flitting around inside. A pang of sadness resounds in his chest as he watches that unprotected sorrow, as he remembers the longing that he had seen painted on the prince’s face as he looked out onto the vastness of the city.

He catches the prince’s gaze, looks him dead in the eyes. “I’ll sneak you out. Don’t worry. I’ll be here.”

The prince raises his eyebrows. “How are you going to get around the guards?”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?” The prince examines Aomine’s face, brows furrowing and Aomine looks away in a panic, because what if he’s recognized as that dirty punk from the street? He’d have even less of a chance than he does now.

“Eh. Whatever. Do what you want. Koganei, come.” And the prince whirls around, begins striding across the emerald grass, his cerulean cape billowing behind him. The tiger makes a pleased mewl and leaps off Aomine’s chest, trots to catch up, his tail flicking back and forth happily. Aomine’s finally able to take a deep gasping breath, rolls over on his side and watches the prince leave, his heart pounding blood, hot and alive, through his veins.

 

~*~

 

“Holy shit. It _is_ you.” Prince Kagami is staring into Aomine’s face, his eyes wide and shocked, one hand gripping Aomine’s pathetic excuse of a stick-on mustache, his one shoddy attempt at disguise. Aomine hides his face behind his hands, his hair ruffled by the sharp wind blowing against them and he groans.

“Fuck. Goddamn _shit,_ this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Everything had been going so _well._ Like planned, he had arrived at the prince’s balcony at nightfall, and like the smooth casanova he was had persuaded the prince to come along on this magical trip of a lifetime. Ok, so it might have had something to do with the fact that literally no one could refuse a ride on a magic carpet, but hey, it worked, right? And the prince had obviously been warming up to him. He had sat close, holding onto his arm as they flew through the night sky, admiring the twinkling stars above and staring with awe at the sights of the world below.

But he had fucked up royally. All it took was one slip of the tongue.

“So, is Daiki a family name?” the prince had asked, oh so casual, and Aomine had been so distracted watching a flock of geese flying below them that he had replied without thinking. “Nah. My mom thought it was handsome or something. Personally, I’ve never been a fan.” Realizing his mistake, he had immediately gasped and clapped a hand to his mouth, eyes wide and mentally spewing a stream of profanities.

And then Kagami had unceremoniously reached over and fucking _ripped_ Aomine’s fake mustache off, resulting in a very unmanly howl of pain and tears pricking his eyes. Which leads back to the current situation of:

“Why did you lie to me?” The prince demands, reaches over and begins repeatedly slapping Aomine over the head mercilessly.

“Ow! Jeez, knock it off! How the fuck did you know?” Aomine ducks, covers his head with his arms, tries to scooch away but it’s difficult when there’s only a few inches between you and a mile drop.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? It’s a _fake mustache_! It’s the shittiest disguise I’ve ever seen!”

Aomine reaches up, snatches the prince’s wrist mid-slap, angrily furrows his brows. “Well it still fooled you, didn’t it? Don’t pretend like you're so clever! You probably just noticed!”

And the prince blushes, angrily yanks on Aomine’s ear with his other hand and in a fit of desperation Aomine cries out, “It was the only shot I had with you!”

The prince pauses, hand raised for another slap and he squints, his cheeks red. He lowers his arm, takes his wrist back from Aomine and leans back on both his hands as he turns to look straight ahead. He’s quiet for a moment, before he says so softly it’s almost like he doesn’t want Aomine to hear it, “So…you like me.”

“Uh, yep. I think we already established that.” 

Aomine turns as well, face burning and stomach roiling and from inside his pocket, tiny blue mouse-Kuroko squeaks up at him encouragingly. He takes a deep breath.

“You like me too.”

The prince whips his head around to look at him, face scarlet.

“I never said that!”

“’I only met him once. But he was so gorgeous and funny and my heart just couldn’t handle his amazingness. Oh, how I wish we could be together. But alas, he is but a poor street urchin. A hot, sinfully fine man of the land.’” Aomine says, his voice mockingly high and Kagami scowls.

“I said that to Lord What’s-His-Face in confidence! And you're exaggerating!”

Aomine grins, enjoys the breeze, looks up at the moon and the dark shapes of the clouds. He sighs.

“Well, the cat’s outta the bag now. What are we gonna do?” He murmurs, and the prince turns to look at him, frowning.

“What I wanna know is how you went from poor as dirt to, well, _this.”_ He gestures at Aomine’s fine clothes, at his wrists covered in elegant bracelets and his ears lined with high-end studs of jade and amethyst. Aomine reaches inside his pocket, fishes around for a moment.

“Hey, Tetsu, come out here for a sec.”

He pulls out a powder blue mouse and Kagami looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Why do you have a rat in your pocket?”

And at once there’s a puff of smoke and there’s suddenly a young boy sitting cross-legged on the rug across from them.

“I was a kangaroo mouse.” He says quietly, reaches up and adjusts his crooked tiara.

Kagami later claims he doesn’t scream. But he totally screams.

 

~*~

 

“I, uh, really am sorry for lying to you,” Aomine says softly, the carpet hovering just above the prince’s balcony. Kagami stands, gingerly steps across the rug to hop elegantly down onto the smooth stone, looks up at Aomine with a frown.

“Yeah, well, I guess I understand where you were coming from.” Kagami’s still blushing, evidently embarrassed at having leapt into Aomine’s arms the second Kuroko had poofed into his human form.

Aomine doesn’t know what he should do now. Is this it? Now that his identity is revealed, there’s really no point in continuing whatever he’s trying to do here. He’s obviously not nobility, and Kagami knows that now—he’s back to square one, and no amount of wishing can take that back. What, did he honestly think he was going to be able to see this through the whole way? Did he actually think he was going to end up with the prince? He knows that he’s been naïve from the start. He won’t blame Kagami for whatever he decides to do. Will they shake hands and go their separate ways? Elope and live the rest of their lives on a tropical island? Whatever it is, it’s not going to be his call.

“Uh, well. I guess…I’ll see you around?” Aomine says awkwardly, scratches the back of his head to give his hands something to do. He can feel Kuroko’s judgmental stare burning through him, knows he’s being lame as fuck but what else can he do?

“Mmm. Yeah, I guess. I’ll probably escape again sometime soon, so maybe I’ll see you in town.” The prince says offhandedly, watching his feet with apparent interest.

_Oh._

He expected this. But it still hurts a lot more than he thought it would. Aomine closes his eyes, clenches his fists at the pain in his heart.

“Ok. Yeah. Sounds good.”

He’s not sure where he’s going to go now. There’s nothing left for him here. Why would he stick around, knowing he’s never going to get anywhere? He can't just loiter around the city, pining pathetically for the rest of his life. He still has two wishes and the carpet. He can still go anywhere he wants.

But Kagami won’t be with him.

Neither of them are looking at each other. Aomine bites his lip, sighs and begins reaching forward to give a light tap to the carpet to tell it to get going.

“Hey, wait. Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t thanked you yet for tonight.”

Aomine startles, turns to look down at Kagami, whose fingers are gripping the very edge of the carpet as he looks up. Aomine doesn’t get why the prince’s face is still so red, why he’s fitfully picking at carpet threads and he’s about to ask why he’s being so weird, but then Prince Kagami’s fisting his hands in Aomine’s shirt and yanking him downwards.

“Wh—“

He’s cut off by lips suddenly pushed against his own, and they get a clash of teeth but then Aomine reaches down to hold Kagami’s face, to steady it, and then the kiss is so soft and Aomine sighs into it.

The prince pulls away first, his face so red it looks like it should be letting off steam but he’s beaming, and he seems to realize he’s smiling because he looks away, his face working to get the grin off his face. He turns, walks unsteadily towards his room, but just before he reaches for the handles he turns back, gives a quick wave and a mumbled, “I’ll see you soon.” Then he’s wrenching the balcony doors open and slipping inside.

Aomine flops onto his back on the carpet, hears Kuroko tell the rug to start heading back into town but he can barely hear him, just looks up at the countless stars, feels the cold desert night wind blow against his face, closes his eyes and reaches up to trace the pads of his fingers across his mouth. He smiles.

 

~*~

 

 

Anyone with a pair of eyes and half a brain would have been able to tell that gray-looking man was bad news.  Aomine himself belonged in this category. And while he admits his more academic skills were lacking, in his eyes, he more than makes up for it with his street smarts. So he’s a little pissed off with himself that he let down his guard for even a second, thus leaving him in this less-than-desirable situation.

So yeah, Aomine had known with one look that guy with hair as greasy and black as an oil slick couldn’t have been a friendly fellow, but he had no idea he’d turn out to be quite so _evil._

Thanks to his negligence, here he was, surrounded by what has to be every soldier in the city crammed into his tiny little apartment room. The Sultan’s skeezy advisor is leering just inches from his face and he’s so caught off guard by this development that he hardly reacts as the man grips his jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks, the long nails breaking skin.

“You have something that belongs to me.” He drawls, gives another squeeze of his hand before he shoves Aomine away and he has to catch himself, wipe the clammy hand-sweat from his chin.

“What the fuck are you on? No, I don’t. I don’t even know you.” He growls, eyes darting around the room, quickly spotting Kuroko hiding under the bed with the magic carpet. He licks his lips nervously, glancing around at the aggression marring the faces of every soldier. This is bad. Why else would they be here than because of the lamp?

“Oh, you don’t do you?” The man purrs, and Aomine follows his line of sight and his stomach fucking  _drops_ when he sees the very lamp in plain sight, not having gotten shoved properly under the bed.

He’s surrounded by sharp spears on all sides and he can only watch, completely powerless, as the man strides across the room, stoops and cradles the lamp reverently in his hands. Aomine glances to Kuroko, nausea growing within him as he sees the normally-neutral face break into an expression of horror. 

As the man moves to rub his hands across the dull surface, Aomine blurts out in a panic, "Testu, get out of here!”

"I can't." He whimpers in reply, and Aomine has to watch in dismay as he disappears from under the bed only to poof back into existence standing primly in front of the Sultan's advisor.

"I am a genie. I am the shadow to the light of my master. As such, I have the power to grant you three wishes. What is it that my master most desires?" He recites tonelessly, his eyes cold and flinty and the man grins.

“Why don’t you let me think about that for a minute," He says, grin unbearably smug and in a single twirl he’s walking back out the door, snapping his fingers and suddenly Aomine’s getting shoved forwards after him. He glances over his shoulder, the smirk twisting his face reminiscent of curdling milk and Aomine officially thinks he might throw up.

“You're coming with me. I want you to watch as I overthrow the Sultan and your precious prince."

_Yeah, this guy totally sucks._

 

 

~*~

 

Less than twenty minutes later he’s rethinking his previous thought that he was smart in any way at all. To his credit, he kind of always knew grey-man was vaguely familiar. The ashen color of his eyes, his slimy voice and over-all creepiness should have been a dead give-away. But he’s never been very good with faces, and even worse with names, so it takes a whole lot of clues before he’s able to make the connection.

“Hanamiya! You’ll pay for this!” Kagami yells from where he’s struggling, tied to a pillar in the throne room.

That was when the pieces fit together. Aomine gapes, stares at the clearly young man in front of him and tries to match his face to that withered old geezer he met in the dungeons.

“Hachikaka? What the fuck! How are you so…so…not old?” He asks, his eyes darting from Hanamiya to the lamp lying on the floor between them, having managed to knock it out of his hands while he had been delivering his typical and cliché villain speech. Kuroko stands off to the side, unable to help without a master to give him a command, and he’s worrying his lips as he watches on, pale eyebrows dipped in concern. The both of them slowly circle the lamp, Aomine watching that slimeball closely in case he tries to dive for it. He needs to be faster.

Hanamiya doesn't get a chance to reply before he's interrupted.

“I trusted you!” Kagami screams, more angry than heartbroken, practically spitting venom.

“Shut _up_.” Hanamiya sneers, his flat gray eyes never leaving Aomine’s face. “To answer your question: I am a sorcerer, idiot. I can make myself look however I want. It is simple to make myself look older.”

Aomine frowns.

“Is this cause I betrayed you? Look, I’m sorry, but I honestly couldn’t find your fancy treasure or whatever that you were looking for. All I found was this thing.” He gestures at the dull lamp in front of him. “And I was getting tired,” he tacks on as an afterthought.

“Are you really that stupid? The lamp _is_ what I was looking for! I need the power of the genie to become Sultan! No, to become master of the universe!”

Aomine blushes, feeling like an idiot.

“That makes a lot of sense,” he mumbles to himself.

“Daiki, you’re an idiot!” Kagami calls from across the room.

“Shut your fuckin’ trap, Taiga!” He yells back. 

"Well, this is certainly endearing, but you all are getting boring. Let's see...what to do with you." Hanamiya cocks his head to the side thoughtfully, narrows his eyes at Aomine. "I still want you to watch my conquest. So I suppose you'd make a good companion for the old Sultan in the dungeons, hm?" He smiles, flicks his gaze to Kagami, who's completely livid. "And you...I guess your face isn't half-bad. I think I'll make you my bride." 

Kagami stares back at him for all of two seconds before he dry heaves.  “Oh, my god. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Hold it.” Aomine snarls, taking a threatening step forwards. “You think I’m just gonna let you take my man?” 

"I cannot  _take_ what is already rightfully mine." _  
_

Aomine sees red as he rolls up his sleeves. “Nope, that’s not gonna fly with me. C’mere. We’ll settle this the right way!”

“Don’t tell me you want to _fight_ me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’! Come at me!”

Hanamiya laughs.“You are a _savage_.” 

Aomine growls, takes another step and half-raises his fist, when all of a sudden there’s a flash of red and blue and gold, and Hanamiya is all but thrown across the throne room. Aomine stares dumbly, at the crumpled pile of assholery a good fifty feet away, then he turns to where Hanamiya had just been standing moments ago.

“What the  _fuck_ just happened?” 

His question is answered moments later when he catches movement from the corner of his eye; Aomine looks up, and hovering just a bit above the Hanamiya-shaped absence is a floating, fluttering piece of intricate weaving.

“Magic carpet…?” Aomine says slowly, quickly picks his jaw up off the floor when he feels a light tap to his elbow. He looks down to meet determined blue eyes.

“Quickly, Daiki. While Hanamiya is unconscious, rub the lamp so that you become my master again.”

“Oh, shit! Yeah!” Aomine quickly stoops over and holds the little lamp in his hands. To think that Kuroko has lived in this tiny thing for millennia is kind of mind-boggling. Aomine probably wouldn’t be able to fit his whole hand inside—he can’t _imagine_ being cramped up in this thing with nothing to do but wait for someone to stumble upon it. And then after the three wishes were up, Kuroko’d be shoved back into this thing for god knows how long. It makes Aomine feel sad, and really guilty.

“Alright, you are now my master again. The three-wish rule still applies, and the wishes carry over. So you only have two wishes left. Choose wisely.”

Aomine crinkles his nose. “Yeah, but…I don’t really know what do with him. I know you’re not allowed to kill people, and it’s not like _I’m_ gonna do it…” He curls his lip at the thought. He talks tough, and while he definitely wouldn’t mind painting Hanamiya a little black and blue, he didn’t want the guy to _die._

Kuroko pauses to think for a moment. 

“Take away his ability to hurt people.”

Aomine glances across the room at Hanamiya, who appears to be knocked out cold. “So you’re saying I should just wish for a way to make him harmless?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Okay. Then… “ He needs to consider this wish carefully. After this, he only had one left, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna be using it to reverse what he’s about to say. “I wish… that Hanekawa was a dog. Like a really cute little dog that likes to sit in people’s laps and shit like that.”

Hanamiya raises his head groggily and slurs “huh?” at the same time that Kagami screams “ _No!”_ from across the room.

But it’s too late.

Kuroko snaps his fingers and then Hanamiya’s body is distorting, making snapping rubber noises as he shrinks drastically in size, as his black hair shortens and spreads across his whole body. His gray eyes are now sky blue, his expression bored and he slumps down to lay on the floor, letting out a resigned sigh through his nose. Aomine squints.

“Did you make him look like you on purpose?”

“You said to make him really cute.”

Aomine snorts. “Someone’s a little full of themselves.”

“The love of your life is currently tied to a pillar and crying. Why don’t you go take care of that?”

Aomine rolls his eyes, gives a quick ruffle to Kuroko’s hair and then he’s running across the room, sliding to his knees and grabbing Kagami’s face in his hands. He’s trying to hold it in, but he’s not doing to a very good job of keeping the saltwater from leaking out the corners of his eyes.

“W-Why w-would you do something so a-awful?” he whimpers, Aomine desperately trying to wipe the tears before they have the chance to run down Kagami's cheeks. He frowns, reaches into his boot and takes out a pocketknife to begin whittling away at the ropes tying Kagami to the pillar. “What, was it really that mean a thing to do? I mean, he was kind of after world domination.”

“I hate dogs!” Kagami howls, and as Aomine cuts the last of the ropes loose Kagami falls limply into his chest, buries his face in the fabric and wipes away tears and snot.

Aomine wrinkles his nose but pats the prince on the back comfortingly regardless, glances back over his shoulder apologetically at Kuroko but he needn’t have bothered, for the genie is now coddling the would-be evil mastermind on the floor.

He turns back, guides Kagami’s face away from his chest, wipes underneath his eyes with his thumbs.  “C’mon. He’s not gonna hurt us now.”

He tugs at Kagami’s elbows, helps him stand up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he mutters darkly, Aomine taking his hand as the two of them return to Kuroko. The genie looks up from where he’s stroking his fingers up and down Hanamiya’s snout, and he stands as well.  "So, what now?" He asks, pats his pants down, fixes the bangs across his forehead.

Aomine grins, wraps an arm around the prince's waist and brings them closer, hips knocking together. "Number one on my priority list is to marry this hunk of—"

"Shouldn't your number one be releasing the Sultan from the dungeons?" Kuroko says, voice dry, eyebrow cocked skeptically. 

Aomine groans. "Ok,  _yes,_ fine, I'll let him out first.  _Then_ I'm gonna marry—"

"Oi, Daiki. Don't get ahead of yourself. You gotta court me first. And get me presents and stuff. I'm not that easy." 

"Oh, my god.  _Fine. Fine._ You guys are killin' me here." But he laughs, because he can't be upset now that the prince is safe, and so is the one who helped him get this far. The one who all but saved him from living a life of barely getting by, a life of scrounging and not knowing if he was gonna make it to see the next day. He looks down at Kuroko, who's staring back at him with big, owlish eyes, and Aomine can't believe he ever thought they were blank and lifeless. Not when they're so obviously always swimming with emotions—with kindness, and trust, and patience—he was a good kid. He didn't deserve to have drawn such a short straw. 

“What will you do with your final wish, Master?” He asks, cracks his knuckles like he's preparing himself to dive right into a brawl. Aomine pretends to think for a moment.

“Well, I pretty much have everything I’ve ever wanted at this point. So, I guess…" He pauses for dramatic effect, then grins at Kuroko slyly. "I wish for you to be free.”

The genie’s pale eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and for the first time in their short acquaintance Aomine seems to have finally rendered him speechless. He opens his mouth, closes it, presses his lips in a hard line before trying again. “Master, are you absolutely sure?  You would do that?” The silent _for me?_ echoes in the air between them, and Aomine looks down, embarrassed.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  Just come back to visit every now and then. You’re not so bad all the time.” He knows he’s blushing, can hear Kagami humming teasingly next to him but he steals his resolve and looks at Kuroko firmly.

“Tetsu, I wish for your freedom!”

And then the golden bangles on Kuroko’s ankles and wrists explode into fluttering gold chips, floating in the glimmering air before dispersing like they had never existed in the first place. Aomine watches with a smile as Kuroko tentatively feels his wrists, reaches down to trace his fingertips around his naked ankles with wonder.

“Thank you.” He murmurs in awe, and Aomine coughs awkwardly.

"Don't mention it." 

Kuroko frowns then, glances up and opens his mouth.

"I'm serious. Don't mention it." 

And then the genie  _smiles,_ and Aomine thinks it's the first genuine one the boy has made since they've met. It's small, but Aomine can see the warmth in his eyes, filled to the brim with gratitude and—wait, was that affection? 

And Kuroko bows, just slightly, at the waist, dips his head before murmuring a quiet:

"As you wish." 

 

~*~

_—Several years later—_

 

Being married to the prince isn't what he thought it'd be. 

It's even  _better_ than anything he could have possibly imagined. 

He wakes up to sunlight streaming in from beautiful gilded windows, surrounded by the sound of the soft tinkling of a fountain, among an absolute mountain of pillows. He groans, rubs his eyes, and turns over on his side, starts digging through the pile of royal blues, blood reds and goldenrod yellows. _Gotta be here somewhere..._

And then he tugs the last barrier out of the way, and just like that his day is made. His husband isn't a silent sleeper—he likes to kick, and sometimes he yells unintelligible gibberish in the middle of the night, and one time he had actually punched Aomine in the face, giving him a black eye. But his sleeping face was also incredibly endearing, and as Aomine watches his nose twitches and he can't help but bend down and peck a light kiss to the tip. The prince crinkles his nose again, a low groan in this throat, and he opens his eyes a sliver.

"Is Kuroko comin' today?" he croaks, his sleepy voice adorably croaky and Aomine grins. 

"Yes, my prince. He said he'd be here 'bout noon." He looks thoughtfully up at the sun streaming in through the sky-light above their bed. "So...he should be here any minute." 

Kagami groans again, stuffs his face into a down pillow. "Let's just stay in bed forever." 

" _I_ don't got a problem with that, but you know how Tetsu gets when he's impatient." 

The prince looks up at Aomine sourly. "He's a bully. Plain and simple."

"It's not very nice to talk badly about people behind their backs, your Highness." 

Neither of them startle at the sudden introduction of a new voice among them—Aomine simply wiggles backwards, making a pocket of pillow and comforter between him and Kagami, and he waits as he feels the bed dip, as the genie worms his way to curl up between the two of them. Aomine immediately fills any empty space, Kagami mimicking him on Kuroko's other side until the three of them are nicely sandwiched together. Kuroko sighs happily, ducks his head the littlest bit until his forehead his pressed against Aomine's collarbones, and Kagami reaches up his hand to run fingers through baby-blue hair. 

The two of them make a point to make sure that whenever Kuroko's visiting, they shower him with as much physical affection as possible. Over the years, the three of them had become somewhat of a unit. They had traveled all over the continent together, to sate their unified thirst for new sights and smells and sounds. After a while, Aomine and Kagami had become, for the time being, satisfied, and had moved back to the palace to begin helping the Sultan with fixing the corruption of the country. Kuroko had stayed until after the wedding, then he had left the palace to better see the world. During his travels he had found another genie, a free-spirit named Kise, and the two of them seem to get along well, considering how polar-opposite their personalities were. Nowadays, Kuroko only comes back to the palace every few months, and when he does the two princes make sure there's a spot between them just for him, arms open wide with welcome.

He has many millennium to make up for, after all.

"How was Argentina?" 

Kuroko squirms a bit to become more comfortable. "Beautiful. But Ryouta kept complaining that the sun was burning his skin."

Aomine snorts. "And what, he doesn't think the sun's gonna burn him _here_?"

"Do not ask me how his mind works. After all this time, I still have no idea." 

"He's so freakin' weird."

It's quiet for a minute, Aomine just listening to the three of them breathing, and then Kuroko murmurs, "I know you told me not to say anything, but thank you. To both of you."

Aomine meets his husband's eyes from over Kuroko's head. He's quirking his eyebrows in what must be silent encouragement, and Aomine sighs. He doesn't need acknowledgement—all he had done was say a couple words to grant the genie's freedom. It had cost zero effort on his part, and accepting Kuroko's gratitude would feel cheap. "This is kinda out of the blue, ain't it?" he hedges, hoping he can worm out of this. 

Kuroko shakes his head against Aomine's chest. "No, I've been thinking about it for a while. You never let me do it properly, so I'm doing it now."

Aomine grunts, embarrassed. "Why're  _you_ thanking me? I only owe you everything, you know."

He hums for a moment, as if in thought, but Aomine suspects he already has planned out what he wants to say. "I suppose I could say the same goes for you." 

Before Aomine can ask what he means, he continues. "I know that you don't want me to thank you for granting me my freedom. But it's more than that. Thanks to you, I'm not alone anymore. I have friends, and people who love me, and I _am_  free. I can do whatever I want now." He shifts a little, presses back into Kagami's chest so that he can tip his head up and look into Aomine's eyes, expression serious and sincere. "What I'm saying is: I'm so glad that it was you who picked up my lamp." 

At that Aomine's face _burns,_ twisted in a self-conscious grimace and Kagami laughs, teasingly pats the top of Kuroko's head. "Whoa, corny." 

Aomine shoves Kuroko's face back into his sternum, trying to pretend like he couldn't fry an egg on his face. "Just...shut up." He grunts, hears a little breathy laugh in reply. And he smiles, closes his eyes, but doesn't try to go to sleep. Because his life is far better than any dream his mind could come up with. 

The three of them doze languidly for the rest of the afternoon, until the two humans become too ravenous to sleep any longer, and they finally get up to scrounge up some food. And as Aomine looks at his two most precious people—his husband, the love of his life, and his ex-genie, now-best friend, he thinks what Kuroko said is very true.

Never again will any of them have spend another night alone. 


End file.
